Pirate Dreams
by Angharad23
Summary: Elizabeth's musings about her encounter with Captain Jack and her girlhood dreams of Pirates


**Title:** Pirate Dreams

**Author**: Falasta's Lady

**Disclaimer: **I have no claim upon Pirates of the Caribbean, the ride or the movie, whatsoever.  They belong to Disney.  This is only for love, not money or fame.  And after getting stuck for 45 minutes on the ride, I'm not sure I want to own that, either!

**Distribution**: Yes, please!  Just email me.

**Summary**: Elizabeth's musings about her meeting with Captain Jack and her girlhood dreams of pirates.

**Rating**:  Very low PG-13 (if that)

**Feedback**: Essential to my continued existence.  Constructive criticism welcome.  Send it to lindelea@yahoo.com

Elizabeth wasn't quite sure how her entire life had changed so rapidly in the space of 24 hours.  The day before she had been concerned only with an increasingly restrictive wardrobe, awkward conversations with Captain Norrington, and innocent romantic fantasies about Will, the boy who had come so mysteriously out of the sea all those years ago.

In truth, the sight of that ghostly ship that day now seemed like a dream, her childish imaginings becoming real to her mind.  But as much as she tried to deny it the passions for everything Pirate had never quite died.  Oh, they had buried themselves deep under the everyday grownup trappings of her life, but continued to persist rather obstinately.  Sometimes she leaned out her windows on a full moon night to breathe in the fresh, enticing scent of the ocean, and dream of wafting away to freedom on the waves slapping against the shore.

Elizabeth didn't remember much about the fall from the fort, only a gut-wrenching drop and then the plunge into cold brine.  But she never forgot the eyes that greeted her after strong hands had ripped the stays from her ribs, nor the face and its strange intense expression.

He was a pirate.  She knew that absolutely from the start.  Exotic, lean, and properly rugged, he looked straight in her eyes as he handled the piece of gold around her neck.  Yet he had saved her from death.  Were pirates supposed to do that?

The next moments seemed as confused as those in the water had been.  She was discovered, by what seemed to be every guard in the fort, soaking wet and half dressed with this rough sailor hanging over her.  In an instant she was surrounded by bayonets pointing at her rather sorry looking rescuer.  She discovered one thing from Norrington's arrogant little exposition:  the man swaying strangely next to her was no other than the infamous Jack Sparrow.

She had come across Jack Sparrow in her early teens while sneaking books from local circulating libraries under the amiable but oblivious eye of her father.  The dashing, mad, dangerous Captain Sparrow had become her new secret obsession.

In her girlish fantasies he swept her off from looted towns to his ship and exotic locales.  She became part of his crew—fearlessly braving storms, climbing the daunting heights of the rigging, becoming an expert in sword fighting.  She would be the Captain's first mate, of course.  Occasionally, lying in her bed on those nights when the moon was too full for her to fall asleep, Jack came creeping into her dreams.  His dark silhouette would drop gracefully through her window, come into her bed and take her in his arms.  He would whisper properly pirate-ish words like "Aye", and "lassie" and "bonnie" in her ears, grinning like a madman.  How had she known that grin so well?  Usually she went out the window with Captain Jack, but sometimes he stayed.  What happened after that was somewhat unclear to her adolescent mind, but her half-formed imaginings woke desires and feelings within that both scared and excited her beyond anything else.

When he had thrown the chain around her neck and pulled her back against him painfully, nothing in her life had ever felt so real.  Her body was tingling and shaking with fear, indignation, and excitement.  That voice, much too intimate, murmured in her ear; she voiced her automatic defensive response, and then she was face to face—very closely face to face—with Captain Jack himself.

He smelled—she remembered that—mostly of seawater, but also of rum and old spices and general filthiness.  His body was hard, muscled, warm and damp against her, and so very alive.  And that grin!  She was infuriated with his physical manhandling and improper taunts, but how could that mad smile be the one she had imagined a thousand times in her silly, girlish daydreams?

When her maid had left, Elizabeth began to wonder whether those dreams had been so foolish after all.  Fantasy had intruded irrevocably upon the humdrum ordinary world, and Elizabeth was sure it was only the start of incredible things to come.


End file.
